Chapter 20: Lady Vivian (I)

"You have to wear it! You’re his—sla—, I mean Pet," Rymora wrote frantically, her hand trembling as she scratched the words onto the paper with desperate urgency.

"He will be very disappointed if he sees you in anything other than what he appointed for you," she added quickly, before thrusting the note toward Aria with a pleading look.

Aria only glanced at the paper, refusing to take it, her lips pressing into a thin line. She already understood what the maid was trying to say, but still, she asked anyway.

"I can just stay in my room all day, right? There’s nothing I’m required to do unless he comes to see me?" she demanded, a deeper frown furrowing her brow as her gaze locked onto Rymora’s.

Rymora instantly shook her head, her entire body stiff with urgency, even before her hand darted out to scribble on the paper once more.

Aria snatched the next message as soon as it was offered:

"You have to attend breakfast, lunch, and dinner! King Zyren prefers to dine in the grand hall, usually with the Lords and a few other important guests."

"You definitely must attend!"

Aria had barely finished reading the words when the urge to shred the paper into tiny pieces surged through her. Her eyes, burning with helpless anger, snapped back to the "clothes" hanging mockingly in front of her.

The longer she stared, the more the thought of wearing them gnawed at her mind, until she seriously considered setting them on fire and watching them turn to ash.

She was still wrestling with the horrifying reality—desperately trying to figure out how to avoid parading her body around like a common whore—when a loud, commanding knock thundered against the door.

It wasn’t a polite rap—it was the kind of knock an owner would give to their own door. A jolt of panic shot through Aria as she turned toward Rymora.

Without hesitation, the maid snatched the paper from Aria’s hands and, to her utter horror, stuffed it into her mouth, chewing with a frantic, wide-eyed expression of terror.

Aria could hardly process the surreal sight of Rymora munching on inky parchment like a desperate animal when, with a heavy creak, the main door to the room swung open.

Soft, deliberate footsteps entered without pause.

Aria’s heart dropped. Her first instinct had been to expect Zyren—who else would dare barge in like that?—but instead, her breath caught when she saw the figure striding into the room.

A woman. Tall, statuesque, and exuding an air of arrogant command.

Her black hair cascaded down to her waist in silky waves. She wore a crimson gown that clung to her figure, accentuating her narrow waist and bare shoulders with an elegance that was simultaneously bold and shockingly sensual.

Her eyes—crimson and sharp—swept over the room, lingering on Aria with open disdain. Her upper lip curled with a trace of disgust.

"So you’re the King’s new pet project," she said, her voice low and dripping with derision, as if sharing a secret she didn’t want the walls themselves to hear.

"It’s his way of proving he can care for something without killing it. He’s failed so far."

Aria stared, stunned by the venom lacing the woman’s words. Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Rymora dropping to her knees, bowing her head low to the floor as if trying to erase her presence entirely.

"Who are you?" Aria demanded, folding her arms tightly across her chest, glaring up at the intruder.

But before the last word even left her mouth, the woman’s leg shot out in a vicious, lightning-quick motion—striking Aria square in the chest.

Pain exploded through her body as she was thrown back, slamming hard against the floor, her breath leaving her in a gasping, agonized wheeze. She doubled over, clutching her sides, as a burning sensation tore through her ribs.

"You’ll find out soon enough," Lady Vivian sneered, stepping lightly over Aria’s crumpled form as if she were little more than debris on her path.

"...But trust me, it won’t be good for you," she added coldly.

Aria’s mind reeled, but rage flared hotter than pain. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sit up, coughing as she rasped out through clenched jaws:

"King Zyren will not be pleased to know—"

But she didn’t get to finish.

In the blink of an eye, the woman was in front of her again. Another savage kick slammed into Aria’s stomach, right where the first one had landed.

This time the impact ripped a strangled cry from Aria’s throat as blood sprayed from her lips. She shuddered violently, barely managing to stay upright.

"You can tell him," Lady Vivian said mockingly, crouching so close that Aria could see the cruel glint in her eyes, "but I’m his blood source. I’ve laid in his bed."

Her smile was all teeth.

"He will issue a warning for show. But by midnight, you’ll be dead."

She straightened slowly, her voice growing almost playful as she added:

"Or maybe... you’ll be found with a guard in your bed. Zyren would looooove that."

Aria pressed the back of her trembling hand to her bleeding mouth, her body shaking with barely contained rage and humiliation. She couldn’t even summon a reply—another kick and she might not stand up again.

A few agonizing seconds passed, and Aria learned the full extent of Lady Vivian’s cruelty: her attacks were deliberate—designed to injure without leaving obvious marks. Bruises where clothes could hide them. Pain that would fade just in time for dinner.

Grinding her teeth, Aria said nothing, swallowing her fury like poison. Speaking now would only invite more violence.

But just as she resolved to stay silent, she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye—and her blood ran cold.

Lady Vivian was walking toward Rymora.

Without hesitation, the vampire reached down and slapped her.

The crack of the impact echoed through the room like a whip, and Aria could only watch in horror as Rymora’s tooth was knocked clean from her mouth, clattering to the floor in a tiny spray of blood.

Rymora cried out in pain, her small body curling inward, trembling on the cold marble.

Aria’s heart thundered in her ears, fury blazing hotter than ever but her expression was blank as she acted like she couldn’t care less what happened to the maid.